


Ranine

by GloriaMundi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Community: au_bingo, Fairy Tales, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaMundi/pseuds/GloriaMundi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ye Olde Wishinge Welle", proclaimed a peeling sign in what even Arthur knew was not actual Olde English.<br/>"I wish I hadn't quit smoking: I could really use a cigarette right now. I wish I knew what the hell Ariadne meant with that line about 'not what I was looking for'. I wish... I wish I loved and was loved."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ranine

It was a fine morning in early spring when Arthur met the man of his dreams. Crocuses were ablaze under the oak trees in the park, and there were birds singing in the branches, which were beginning to be dusted with tiny green buds. The sun's rays were weak, but still a marvel after months of grey skies and icy rain.

Arthur could not give a damn. He had been rejected by the girl he'd asked out (Ariadne, a fellow student at the University, who'd patted his arm kindly and told him that she didn't think she was quite what he was looking for) and no sunshine could illuminate the dead dark winter of his soul.

He was wandering through the park, scowling indiscriminately at small children, playful dogs and blooming flowers, when he found himself on the small winding path that led between the trees to the well. ("Ye Olde Wishinge Welle", proclaimed a peeling sign in what even Arthur knew was not actual Olde English.)

"I wish," Arthur murmured aloud to the spring air, "I wish I hadn't quit smoking: I could really use a cigarette right now. I wish I knew what the hell Ariadne meant with that line about 'not what I was looking for'. I wish..."

But here he was at the well, a sturdy construction of stone and mortar. Surprisingly, there was no safety grill over the top of it. Arthur wondered how long it'd be before some adventurous kid fell in and caused a health and safety riot.

He fumbled in his pocket for coins, and came up with a handful of small change. A quick glance over his shoulder reassured him that nobody was watching his uncharacteristically childish gesture: he cast the coppers into the dark, dank, echoing wellshaft, and muttered quickly "I wish I ... I wish I loved and was loved."

There was a weird echo in the well -- almost like someone was down there, answering back -- but he couldn't hear the coins fall. He leant further over the edge of the well, looking for the far-down gleam of water, and --

For the rest of his life he'd swear that _something_ had come up out of the darkness, something boneless and agile, and snagged his watch -- not just any watch, either, but his father's Rolex Submariner -- from his wrist. His hand was suddenly lighter; there was a glitter of weak sunlight on metal; there was, at last, the sound of a splash. His watch was indubitably absent from his wrist.

His dad's watch.

Arthur was past caring if anyone could see him. He propped his hands against the tiled roof that capped the well, and didn't bother wiping away his tears.

"Lost something, mate?" came a voice. "Down the well?"

Arthur just nodded, too deep in misery to look at whoever was talking to him.

"I'll get it back for you," said the stranger, "if you're ... nice."

There was something insinuating, something _slimy_ , about that voice. Arthur turned to scowl at his interlocutor, but he couldn't see anybody.

"Who said that?" he demanded, glaring at the nearby bushes -- not leafy enough yet to conceal anyone.

"Why so untrusting, darling?" said the voice. It seemed, strangely enough, to be emanating from the well. Perhaps there was someone lurking down there -- a secret passage in the side of the wellshaft, or maybe just a niche that an agile man (it was definitely a man's voice) could swing down into, and then take his pick of anything that was thrown --

"I'd like my watch back, please," said Arthur levelly.

"Of course you would. And you shall have it, for a _paltry_ fee."

"I don't have much money," said Arthur. "I'm just a student: that watch was --" Hmm. Possibly best not to reveal that it was worth more than everything else he owned. "-- An heirloom," he finished weakly, "But it means a lot to me. Name your price, and I'll tell you if I can afford it."

"Oh, you can afford it," oozed the voice.

"Really?" said Arthur, eyebrows raised. "How do you know?"

"Because," said the voice, sounding rather nearer now, "I only want..."

Softly and silently, without any fuss, a ghastly figure slithered up onto the rim of the well. Arthur recoiled, crying out in horror. Had he been watching too many Lovecraft films with Ariadne? Smoked too much dope to help him relax? There had to be some explanation for this tentacled monstrosity, its warty skin agleam with mucus, its gills aflutter, its huge, slit-pupilled eyes (not as ugly as the rest of its person; they were a hypnotic blueish-grey) fixed intently on Arthur. In one sucker-studded ... limb ... it held Arthur's watch.

"... a kiss," it finished, showing Arthur a very impressive array of teeth.

"What the fuck?" managed Arthur.

"Nah, just a kiss," said the monster firmly. "I won't bite -- not unless you ask me nicely." Even more teeth on show this time. "Just one kiss, and I'll hand the watch back to you and we'll go ... we'll go our separate ways. You back to your life, me back to my well." The creature blinked sorrowfully at Arthur.

"One kiss," said Arthur, who'd gauged the distance between himself and the Beast from Twenty Fathoms, and didn't like his chances. "Put the watch down first."

It wasn't ... it wasn't the cold slimy fishy experience that Arthur'd feared. The creature kept its teeth to itself; its tongue was warm and muscular and agile, and its lips unexpectedly full and luxurious against Arthur's own. A limb coiled gently around Arthur's neck, pulling him into the kiss, and really, if he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the experience -- as Ariadne was always telling him to do -- this was actually the best kiss he'd had in a long time, the most passionate and --

The body in his arms -- and just when had he begun to return the embrace? -- suddenly convulsed, a spasm of such ferocity that Arthur found himself knocked to the muddy ground. By the time he'd stopped cussing and shaken off the dizziness, the monster was gone, not even a slimy smear left to show that it had been anything other than a hallucination.

Arthur's watch rested on the edge of the well. He scooped it up and fastened it firmly about his wrist. He'd get the clasp checked out by a jeweller when he had some money to --

"Thank you, darling."

Arthur whirled round. There, rising to his feet from behind the well, was a handsome stranger who Arthur had never seen in his life; a stranger with broad shoulders, a full mouth, and eyes the exact shade of stormy blue-grey that --

"What the _fuck_?"

"Usual story," said the stranger, waving a negligent hand. "Bad behaviour, pissed-off relative, tragic curse, doomed to dwell in darkness as a loathsome B-movie monster until someone kissed me with true passion -- name's Eames, by the way: pleased to meet you, er ...?"

"Arthur," said Arthur. He stared helplessly at the fresh mud on the man's clothes, the spark in his eye, the aristocratic line of his nose. "Cursed? Does anyone even believe in curses these days?"

Eames shrugged, and winked. "Not me," he said. "Not any more."

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the story of the Frog Prince. 'Ranine' is the adjective for frogs.


End file.
